AN: Wow! Great feedback, Kats and Kittens! I'm sooo glad you like it so far. I'm trying to think of how long I want to make it. I usually don't set a limit on my stories, and that's usually how they end up not getting finished. Oh well. We'll just have to see how it goes, yea? Enjoy the next chapter, guys!
Chapter Three:
"What do you want?"
I stare up into the dark eyes of the man towering over me, my body still heaving and shaking from running so fast. I had lost my brothers and the rest of the gang at the park. They had been faster than expected, but Darry and them were mostly about upper-body strength. None of them had ever gone out for track.
Well, Two-Bit had once but only on a dare. Coach said if he ever came near the track again, he'd have the team use him as a pole vault bar. Two-Bit told him that he already had an after-school gig as the wrestling mat . . . For some reason the coaches don't favor Two-Bit very much.
"M-M-M," I stammer, having to stop as a coughing fit takes over and I try not to throw up my dinner all over the man's porch. "Mr. Randle."
Steve's father looks at me drunkenly, a near-empty beer bottle swinging loosely in his hand as he sways slightly.
"Yea?" He asks, the word drawn out and rough. His voice is scratchy, worn, nothing like Steve's.
"Is . . . Is Steve here?" I pant, starting to regain my composure. The man squints his eyes curiously as if trying to focus his vision to better study me.
"Nah," he replies finally, bringing the beer to his lips and tipping the bottle up to finish it off. "He's out with some friends. Don't know when he'll be back."
"Ponyboy?"
I turn abruptly, thinking that I've been found out, but relax some as I find Steve standing on the walkway. His jaw is red, and I can already see signs of swelling. The look on his face clearly states "What the fuck are you doing here? Haven't you caused enough trouble?"
"St-Steve," I manage, my chest becoming tight again. I can't control the trembling that wracks my body, and I don't know if it's from the adrenaline or seeing the other boy.
He walks up to me, gently taking my arm and leading me past his father into the house. His room is covered with posters. Cars, girls, baseball players, wrestlers, bands; he has it all. He closes the door and sits me down on the bed, opening the top drawer of his dresser and fumbling around until he finds what he needs.
"Here," he hands me a cigarette, lighting it for me when I put it to my lips. "You all right?"
"I, uh . . ." I take a long drag off of the cigarette, closing my eyes and releasing the smoke in a quivering gust. "Soda . . . He told Darry . . . And I just couldn't take it. I had to run. They were lookin' at me funny, and the guys started askin' where you were and-"
"Alright," Steve calms me down as I start to cry, pulling me towards him so that my head lies on his chest. "It's okay. Quit your blubberin'. Everything's fine." I revel in the feel of his cotton shirt, wrapping my arms around his waist and concentrating on the beat of his heart. The soothing sound is the last thing I hear before sleep finally blankets me.
0 o 0 o 0
"Pony."
I groan as I'm, suddenly, pulled from my warm dream world; a world where everything is perfect, and Darry and Soda and everyone else are happy, and Steve and I can be together without worry or fear. I don't want the real world anymore. I just want to sleep forever.
"Come on, Pony. We gotta get you home."
My eyes open slightly, but I squeeze them shut again as the light stings them.
"What time is it?" I mutter, raising my head and squinting up at Steve, who is leaning over me. He smiles, and it's one of those genuine smiles where he quirks one side of his mouth upward and his nose crinkles slightly, his eyes taking on a glossy sheen.
"Past ten," he replies, sitting down and tying his shoe on, "and I gotta work at noon."
My head drops back onto the pillow that smells of his cologne, and I sigh, saying, "Can't I just stay here today?"
"Nope," Steve grunts as he leans down to get his other shoe. "Told your brothers I'd have you back this morning." At this remark, I sit up quickly, my eyes wide.
"They called?" I ask hurriedly.
"No," he shakes his head, finally turning to look me in the eyes. "I called them."
"What?" I cry incredulously. "But why?"
"They're your brothers, God damn it," Steve curses, standing and scrubbing his face with his fingertips. "And it took a lot of convincing to let you stay here last night, so I don't want to hear another word. Now, come on. Get your shoes on so I can walk you home."
With a sunken heart, I find my shoes and slowly pull them on, taking my time with the laces. Steve knows I'm stalling, but he doesn't say anything, and I'm grateful. The longer it takes to get home, the longer it'll be before I get chewed out by Darry and Soda.
0 o 0 o 0
They're on the porch when the house comes into sight. Darry is rigid like he had been the night before. Soda is leaning against the wall, his hands deep in his pockets as he tries to look like it's just another day in the hot little town of Tulsa. I wish it was. I'd probably be having eggs now, trying to find a place to sit while Two-Bit sat on the floor and the rest took up the couch.
But here we are. And wishing isn't going to do any good, so I might as well stop.
We're at the gate, and I can't move, my limbs numb from head to foot. Steve waits for a moment then swings it open, ushering me into our yard as I avert my eyes to the ground. I should tell him to leave, to go while he still can, but I can't. I want him here with me. I'm selfish that way, I guess, but I won't be able to stand facing this alone. We stop just before we get to the steps, and I glance fleetingly up at my oldest brother. His eyes are on me, completely emotionless, and I think that's what scares me the most.
Darry's emotions are usually very easy to determine. His eyes . . . what do they call them? . . . "windows to the soul" or some such thing. And it's true with Darry. He's very readable, easy to figure out. If he's mad, you know it, cause his eyes flame and his muscles tense and that vein just above his left temple starts to throb.
Without these indications, he's a blank slate, and that makes him dangerous because you can't tell if he's going to attack you . . . or just plain cut you into tiny, little pieces to hide in the wall.
"Darryl." Steve is the first to speak, and it seems to break the tension slowly circling us and drawing closer.
"We need to talk," Darry says quietly, his gaze shifting from me to the boy behind me. My eyes follow. "Inside."
Steve is silent for a moment, contemplating my brother's words, no doubt. He knows that if he goes inside, it'll take a lot more than a couple of hours to get out what needs to be said, and that will mean being late for work. He glances towards me, giving an assuring grin before looking back at Darry and shrugging.
"Alright."
AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard to any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?
Okay, short chapter. My sincerest apologies, but it's almost 3 in the morning, and if I have to get up at 6am to work, I'd better get at least some sleep, yea? I promise to write a longer chapter next. I've got a couple of days off, so I'll have plenty of time to writewritewrite.
Until the next chapter, Kats and Kittens:)